


A Pitstop in Russia

by FantabulousAss



Series: Reconnecting [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantabulousAss/pseuds/FantabulousAss
Summary: When Alfred drops Russia's key off, it brings up some memories of how they ended.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Series: Reconnecting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053482
Kudos: 18





	A Pitstop in Russia

The stop in Russia was short, but as Alfred flew back to Virginia, taking the long way home, he couldn’t shake the discomfort of seeing Ivan’s home and not stopping in.

His car hadn’t been there, so he doubted he would’ve even seen Ivan anyway, but it was still weird to be there, smell that crisp air that was so unique to Ivan’s home and not go in to get out of the wind that blew by consistently.

He squirmed in his seat, feeling, at least, a little more at home around the height of the Europeans boarded on this flight, though he still noted that he was still the fattest person on the plane. It comforted him a little, at least, that he wasn’t the only one whose head threatened to brush the top of the luggage compartment in his seat. He didn’t feel quite as huge, didn’t feel like he took up as much space from other, more deserving, people.

He had only bought two seats this time around, feeling other people's eyes on him, but when he popped in his earbuds, they managed to fade away, being replaced by his playlist and the occasional notification.

He knew his boss was sending him emails upon emails, but he hadn’t opened a single one. He hated the pointed questions, hated the jokes his boss probably thought were clever. He could really use a burger.

Alfred hadn’t purchased in-flight food for this go around, because he figured he’d grab something on his layover in England. He’d thought of visiting Arthur, but he wasn’t really ready for a lecture. To be completely honest, he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, much less an authority figure, past or present.

Despite the fact that his worries about being the largest person on the plane were quelled, the music he tended to play, going from light and pop-y to heavy and angry, brought different thoughts to mind as he sat. The romantic songs, which he skipped as soon as they popped up, brought up the fact that he was alone, which wasn’t _bad_ , wasn’t a bad thing, and he was alone because Ivan had betrayed his trust… that was the bad thing. He was alone because he’d been stupid and chosen another power-hungry superpower to fuck with. Literally.

The angry songs… made him feel worse. There was nothing more he could do, and yet he wasn’t feeling better.

_“I love feeling your stomach after you’ve had a meal.”_

He ached for a full meal, hand resting on the crest of his belly, knowing it had grown over his stay in Japan and not finding it within himself to care. He wanted food, comfort food, warm and thick, sitting in his gut and rounding him out, helping his brain shut off and go silent so he could maybe sleep on his way home instead of squirming and feeling his anxiety spike.

When they landed in England, the first thing he did was seek out a specific pub. Not for the alcohol, no, he wasn’t stupid, but for their portions, rivalling American dining with their portion sizes, helping Alfred feel at least a little bit like he was back home as he made his way back to the air port, munching on fish and chips all the way there.

The meal sat heavy and greasy, comforting after the hours of stressful travel. Make fun of him all you wanted, but food made him feel better after any stress. Travel, transit, breakup, midnight crunch… anything. Food made everything better.

That was why he decided to grab a bunch of candy bars from concession. It wasn’t as good as a hot, filling meal, but it would, at the very least, keep his mouth busy as he flew.

His worries about being the fattest person aboard the plan abated some, as he heard rather than saw some of his own citizens boarding the plane. He smiled, their accents being some comfort as they boarded, the mother throwing orders at her son and husband.

Despite the comfort he reaped from having them aboard as well, he still opened one of his candy bars and started munching it. _God, if there’s one thing those Europeans got on us, it’s chocolate_. He thought to himself, feeling the chocolate spread so smoothly across his tongue. It was so rich it made his molars hurt but every bite helped fill his stomach, until his sweats started to feel a little tight.

_“Let’s get you out of these… how did you even squeeze into them?”_

He sighed at the memory. Ivan had always had an interest in Alfred’s body. He’d thought, at one time, it was because he’d found it attractive, but now… he just didn’t know.

Everything Ivan had ever said could be construed as being an elaborate joke. That was something Alfred had told him so many times. Each time, Ivan had soothed him, touching him in places he knew Alfred hated being touched, wiping tears if there were any… Alfred had felt loved, cherished… for a long time.

_“You are so completely, undeniably sexually appealing, Alfred. Please never doubt that.”_

These feelings of revulsion, discomfort, they weren’t _new_ but it’d been so long since they were so strong, he couldn’t help being blindsided. Ivan had inched closer and closer to being a feeder, and Alfred, spurred on by his love of food and the huge outpour of attention, had allowed it. He had enjoyed it, for a long time.

But now… he ate because he had to and because it made him feel better. He _cared_ of course, that he was getting fat, but not enough to stop. He wanted the haze fullness brought him, the sleepiness it allowed.

He had hated ordering in secret, knowing Kiku probably already knew, not knowing, however, if he was being judged. Kiku had seemed to appreciate the softness of Alfred’s body, but that was different than being judged. He didn’t know. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

When the plane finally landed in Virginia, he sighed, having already placed a large pizza order to his home. He would have one pizza tonight and save the other for the rest of the week.

That was the plan, anyway, but once he got home, smelled the cheese, meat and sauce, he dove right in, finishing much more than he had wanted to.

As he ate, he felt his heart slow, finally, and he could feel that sweet haze returning. He was so full he found himself gasping, and yet, just to push himself that much farther, he ate one last slice.

As much as he wanted to become one with his couch, he put the leftovers, a singular slice that he would probably finish in an hour if he wasn’t asleep, in the fridge and grabbed a glass that he filled with water from the sink.

He took careful sips, the water feeling both wrong and refreshing after eating the majority of two pizzas, grease travelling down his throat and into his belly.

Rubbing a tense spot in his belly as he stood in the quiet, mostly dark kitchen while the news played in the background, Alfred remembered Ivan’s hands, huge things, rubbing so gently, grabbing where it was always soft, that little overhang, right at the bottom. When he glanced over at his oven, he remembered how many times he’d cooked breakfast, right there, sometimes waking up before Ivan, other times slinking out of bed while he was in the bathroom. He remembered the way Ivan would sneak his huge, freezing cold hands around Alfred’s torso and cuddle up, not being shy, possessive, almost, in the way that he would wrap his own chubby body around Alfred’s, head on his shoulder and ask what he was making for breakfast, and if he needed help. Sometimes his lips would meet Alfred’s cheek and he would suck on the chubby flesh, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make Alfred laugh and turn around, breakfast momentarily forgotten while they kissed, remarkably similar bodies flush to the other and so goddamn comfortable.

It was still barely real, that they weren’t just having a fight, they wouldn’t fuck their way through this one. This was _serious_ , Ivan had violated Alfred’s trust, the safety of his nation… He had made Alfred feel like an idiot.

Fuck eating the pizza in an hour, he decided, grabbing the last slice out of the fridge and bringing it up to bed with him.

`~`

Alfred had always tried to stay at least a little goofy around his bosses, help them laugh, it was a stressful job after all, leading a whole ass country, but this one he could barely muster up a smile around. He’s been somber just about the entire time the guy was in office, though, so at least that was nothing new.

He allowed himself to get chewed out, feigning interest in whatever the man was saying and pretending to listen. He was already thinking about lunch.

He didn’t even bother hiding his eating habits from anyone around him. If his boss was tailing him, he didn’t care. Let that fat motherfucker talk. Let him get all blustered and bitchy. Alfred was centuries old and would far outlive him, no matter how fat he got.

Lunch was local to DC, a little hoagie place he visited every time he was there, one that had been there ever since the man working behind the counter had been barely older than 12.

The meatball footlong sub tasted like comfort and felt like a warm blanket as it settled in his belly. He hated working in DC lately. Luckily, they were back to the normal hustle and bustle, no more worries about Russian spies or bots.

He sighed through his nose, mouth full of sub, remembering with a little flush of embarrassment how _doggedly_ he’d defended Ivan.

_“I never asked for you to defend me.” Ivan’s purple eyes, usually relaxed and warm, were cold and set in a condescending glare that was 100% Russia, none of the Ivan that Alfred loved so much._

_“What else was I supposed to do, Ivan? You were here all the time, I obviously care about you! If I hadn’t defended you it would’ve looked like I knew what you were doing!”_

_“Did you?”_

He remembered the way Ivan had looked at him, as if trying to get him to admit that he _had_ known and just chose to ignore it.

 _“Of fucking course not, you asshole! I believed you! I_ **_loved_ ** _you and I thought you loved me, trusted me! I cannot fucking believe you!”_

_“I chose my country’s prosperity over my own temporary feelings. You know we would have fought soon enough. You have no patience. My own is not infinite.”_

He couldn’t blame Ivan for choosing his country over him. That wasn’t the issue, that had never been the issue. That was to be expected. They had duties to uphold, things that were more important than interpersonal relationships. But this…

_“So you’re saying you chose your boss over me? Is that what you’re saying? You think his idea of what’s best for your country is the downfall of mine? Of me?”_

_Ivan had looked guilty, but just for a moment. “I have to believe he has my best interests in mind, Alfred.”_

_“Oh, of course, how can I forget? Humans are completely infallible, aren’t they? Look at my new boss, isn’t he just a shiny fucking example?!”_

_“You are behaving like a child. This was not personal.”_

_“Don’t you fucking patronize me! Don’t you fucking dare!_ **_You_ ** _made it personal when_ **_you_ ** _went through my shit! You_ **_lied_ ** _to me, you went against our only rule. I can’t trust you, Ivan. I can’t trust someone who would lie about that.”_

He finished his sub and threw the paper it had been wrapped in away.

He had been ashamed when he’d started crying in front of Russia. The whole air of the room had changed, and while Alfred could tell he’d wanted to comfort him, Ivan stayed on his side of the room, hands hidden neatly in the long sleeves of his coat.

_“You need to get out.”_

_“Alfred-,”_

_“You can’t call me that anymore. Our relationship isn’t like that anymore. You made our relationship not like that anymore.”_

_“Alfred, do you understand that this is not personal? That I still desire a relationship with you? I know that it may be difficult to understand-,”_

_“Do you think I’m_ **_stupid_ ** _?! Do you really think I want to stay in a relationship with you when you_ **_stole my documents_ ** _multiple times and sent them to your boss? Do you really think that I can_ **_ever_ ** _trust you after you got that fucking… that…_ **_him_ ** _into office? Do you have any idea what he wants to do to me?! Did you even_ **_think_ ** _about what he could do to me?! Did you ever even once think about that?!”_

_Ivan’s head dropped and he shook his head. “No. I did not. I did what I was told was the right course of action.”_

_“Of fucking course you didn’t. You know, everyone warned me. Everyone warned me that I was stupid for getting involved with you, but I thought we were good. I thought we were cool. You fucking_ **_lied_ ** _to me to get to my private fucking documents. And I_ **_believed you_ ** _.”_

His tears had been hot, his cheeks flushed and burning with humiliation and rage. He had wanted to beat the shit out of Ivan, Russia. Now, as he stood outside the Capitol Building, feeling the chilly spring wind toss his hair about, he just felt the dull ache that had just recently stopped throbbing every time he thought about Ivan.

Alfred really had loved Ivan. He’d known it wouldn’t last forever, that was just the nature of being a mostly-immortal creature in charge of a country full of humans, but he had never thought it would’ve ended like that. He thought they would’ve fought viciously, punching and beating, biting and tearing, so full of rage and hatred for each other that they couldn’t stand to be around each other anymore. That had always seemed like that was what they were destined to do.

This felt wrong. Slimy. Like Alfred was standing in a pool of slime and had no idea how deep it went, had no idea how long Ivan had been lying and everything he’d been lying about. Alfred didn’t know how to make it right. The only thing that could make it right was if Ivan were to allow Alfred to do the same, but he didn’t want that. He had never wanted to sabotage Ivan’s government. Not in the last 30 years anyway.

He wished he could talk to someone about it, but who could he talk to that hadn’t warned him? The whole world had practically warned him, and his stupid, stubborn ass had ignored it. He knew better. He understood Ivan in a way no one else did. Ha.

He went throughout the rest of his day half-aware of everything going on. He gave status reports on his digitization through the haze, apologizing throughout the meeting for his blunder. Some faces in the room were sympathetic, but others were not. That was also to be expected.

Home was quiet, home had food, and again, Alfred ate his feelings. He knew it was stupid, knew it was a bad idea, knew his boss would just send him somewhere else for his troubles, but he didn’t care. If his boss really wanted to parade his fat ass all over the world, showing the rest of their allies what he’d been reduced to, that was his prerogative, that was his choice. Alfred didn’t care anymore.

He was pulling himself up by the bootstraps, as the saying went, and dealing with his own shit by himself, the way he always had and always would.


End file.
